


Four things involving Clyde the Tortoise

by Keenir



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>--chapter 1:  I do not believe that word means what you think it does.<br/>--chapter 2:  Clyde solves a case.<br/>--chapter 3:  Howell.<br/>--chapter 4:  What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I do not think that word means what you think it does.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awanderingbard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awanderingbard/gifts).



Unsurprisingly, Joan found Sherlock at his laptop. What surprised her was what he was watching. _Is that a - yup, beyond a doubt now._ "Why are you watching turtle porn?" Joan asked.

"Clyde is assisting in the perpetuation of his species," was his answer.

"I can see that. That also wasn't what I asked."

"In part, to assure myself he knew what to do," Sherlock said.

Joan had no intention of saying 'of course he does' - the incident with the cormorant (and her late boot) was seared in her brain. "And does he?"

"Thus far, I've observed no complaints."

"You wrote a paper on chelonian facial features?"

"A short one. Simply haven't gotten around to publishing it."

"Let me know what you do, okay?" Joan asked. When Sherlock gave an assent, she asked, "I'm going to get a drink. You want anything?"

"Water for now," he said.

The next two minutes were uneventful and quiet.

Sherlock said to her, as she came back with their respective drinks, "You miss Clyde."

"Yeah, I suppose I do," Joan said.

"The feeling is mutual."

Joan didn't relinquish his water to him; just gave him a look he chose to read as _'Please Explain'_.

"As Clyde's co-owner, I too miss his presence and assistance," Sherlock explained.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what 'mutual' means."

"The word refers to the feelings and opinions of at least two self-aware sapiences. As Clyde has difficulty adding anything save for himself with a meal, he can safely be disqualified."

"That's... fine," Joan said, handing him his water, then went upstairs to watch tv or tvs.


	2. Clyde solves a case.

Clyde the tortoise could see it all from where he stood on the papers. Could see event the answer to the puzzle Watson had clearly placed him here to help solve.

"Come on," Watson said encouragingly to Clyde.

Couldn't she see it, Clyde wondered. So excited to have solved it before his humans, he nearly widdled like a puppy. Quite undignified, he knew.

Perhaps she needed him to point the way. Clyde bit lightly the relevant paper and began trawling it over to the vital clue's paper.

"No, Clyde, that's not for eating," Watson objected, making that uniquely human groan she tended to make in conversation with Clyde's other owner.

Eat? Ugh and meh, Clyde felt. Child fingers tasted better than this brand of print, he felt; and had only nipped reproachfully at the ruffians who had tried to poke this turtle's eye.

"Come on," Watson said again, encouragingly.

I cannot speak, Clyde would have pointed out, had this not been contradictory. Look! tapping the two pages with his upper beak.

"Watson? Where -" Sherlock said, entering the room. "Why is Clyde on a newspaper I've not yet finished?"

"It's still dry," Watson said. "According to my sister-in-law's brother, this is how to housebreak a turtle."

What?? Clyde was three shades of indignant now. I just solved a crime with this newspaper, and that's what you focus on?

Clyde lay down, now about to move until his humans deigned to recognize Clyde's accomplishment.

"I believe he's more intent upon a nap presently," Sherlock said.


	3. What could possibly go wrong?

"Ready?" Sherlock asked Clyde, picking his tortoise up from the floor. Watson had been at a family reunion until yesterday, when she had gone right into assisting the police solve a crime; it was enough to make a man's bosom swell with pride, even factoring in Gregson's comment on the phone this morning that Watson had been a little scary, like a harried Sherlock trying not to vent. Sherlock shook his head, returning his attention to what he had agreed to do elsewheres -

A former client of his, had a relative well-placed in the regional school system, and, having heard of Sherlock's great wisdom, had asked him to give a presentation...

_To small children,_ Sherlock recalled. _With luck, they will be as well-behaved as I was at their age, only not as prone to interupting._

Clyde gave a silent yawn.

"Yes yes, on our way out the door," Sherlock said. It was common knowledge, after all, that small children loved scaly dinosaurs and small fluffy things. Surely a small, scaly, dinosaurlike animal would be even more resoundingly popular.

He'd faced off against drugs, depression, failure, and Moriarty. What could they do to him at... Sherlock looked again at the business card for where he had agreed to bring Clyde, and thought _What is the worst that could possibly happen?_

_Rick 'n' Bach's Preschool for Gifted Children_   
_2 Falls Rd._


	4. Rachel Howell

'Just shy of hysterical' Sherlock would later say was his opinion of Rachel Howell, 'and that was when she was neither yelling nor hyperventilating.'

When Joan and Detective Bell brought Rachel over earlier that afternoon, Sherlock was laying on the floor, engaged in what looked to Joan like a staring contest with their tortoise. Joan was an old uni mate, as Sherlock understood it; and Bell was a dinner date. _I really need to speak with Watson about using the Brownstone to host others' dates - once can easily become a pattern, if left unremarked-upon._

"Oh, that's cute," Rachel said, walking over to take a closer look at - "Wait, I know that mar on his shell," and her jaw dropped. "TREVOR!" Rachel screamed excitedly, which brought out Ms. Hudson to see what the commotion was.

"Trevor?" Joan asked. "You named your tortoise after the guy who dumped you because he thought the Navy had a no-dating policy?"

Rachel nodded.

"The poor chap," Sherlock said.

"Not really."

"No, not the buffoon, of course," Sherlock said. "I was speaking instead of the tortoise in our midst."

"It's your fault, Joan," Rachel said.

"Mine?" Joan asked while Holmes and Bell asked "Hers?"

"You talked me out of the first name I was going to name this little guy here."

"It wasn't an appropriate name," Joan said.

"What was the name?" Sherlock asked.

"I liked it," Rachel said.

Joan shook her head.

"The name?" Sherlock repeated.

"Fluffy."


End file.
